


The Road to Redcliffe

by iduna



Series: Whose Stupid Idea Was This, Anyway? [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cussing, F/M, Rifts - Freeform, Tricks, Venatori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 15:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iduna/pseuds/iduna
Summary: The gang is going to Redcliffe to meet Fiona. Things don't go as planned,When do they ever?





	The Road to Redcliffe

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I posted one of these. Sorry for the delay. Thanks for your patience. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Thank you to IncreasingLight for her Beta skills. Any mistakes made are mine, not hers.

“No, Vivienne. You aren’t going with me. You can follow afterward, or you can go before, but when I go to Redcliffe, you will not be travelling with me.”

This had been the first time that the First Enchanter had traveled with the Herald, and if she had any say in the matter it would be the last. The trip had been awkward and uncomfortable. Vivienne insulted everyone in the party, and there wasn’t a person among them that didn’t want to toss her off the next cliff they passed.

Earlier in the day, they had reached the Camp that had been designated as “Dusklight,” and started planning the trip to Redcliffe Village. That is when the trouble started in earnest.

“My dear,” Vivienne began, lecturing as if to a child. “I believe it was made clear that the Council wanted me to go to Redcliffe with you, to speak with Fiona.”

“Oh, it was.” As she answered, Carys’ eyes narrowed slightly, and a small curve came to her lips. If Vivienne had gotten to know her at all, she would have realized that she had already lost the battle. Madame de Fer, consummate player of “The Game” in Orlais, didn’t have that experience. She was about to find out exactly how formidable the Herald of Andraste was.

“Well then, My Dear, I cannot possibly understand why we are having this discussion. We will go to Redcliffe, and I will talk to Fiona. It’s that simple, Darling.”

Carys sighed. “You’re incorrect, Viv. While the intentions of the Counsel were quite clear, their instructions left some… let’s call it ‘wiggle room’. I was told that you were going to travel with us when we went to the Hinterlands to talk to Fiona. I wasn’t _specifically_ ordered to take you with me when I went to Redcliffe. I’ve already carried out the exact orders that I was given. I have no obligation to do more.”

First Enchanter Vivienne, Madame de Fer, the Court Enchanter to Empress Celene, and the Mistress to Bastien de Ghislain had been out-maneuvered. It took her a little while to process the information.  And in her typically superior fashion, she refused to accept it.

“Herald,” she started, “Josephine made it clear that she wanted _me_ with you to negotiate with the mages I am the leader of the Loyalist mages. It makes sense for me to not only be there, but to negotiate on behalf of the Inquisition in this matter.”

“Yeah, no.” Carys gave an insincere, and unrepentant grin. “Lady Montilyet is a moron if she believes that you can help. These mages consider you a traitor. They hate you and everything you stand for. You want them chained to the Chantry with the Templars able to abuse them. You think that they should have been patient while those in charge beat them and made them Tranquil on a whim. If she thinks that having you at the negotiating table will help, then she doesn’t understand the situation at all.”

Carys reached into her bag and pulled out her knitting. “Lady Montiliyet believes she knows what’s best in this situation. What she doesn’t understand, is Circle mages mostly see you as a social climbing whore. Once you tell them what you think they should do, they’ll go in the opposite direction.”

Vivienne stood taller, cleared her throat and responded. “I am the First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle of Magi. I am the Imperial Enchanter, and a well-respected member of the College of Enchanters. I don’t believe you grasp the influence I possess. They will listen to me, My Dear.”

The older mage hadn’t finished speaking before Carys rolled her eyes. “All that and a bottle of wine will get you drunk. While that sounds impressive, it means shit out here in the real world. You managed to survive the White Spire massacre. More than a few believe that your survival was based more on your sexual skills than any importance you may have had.”

“That,” Vivienne said, “Is a disgusting lie.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with them,” Carys shrugged.  “But my opinion isn’t what matters; what matters here and now is the prevailing rumor that you survived the Spire via a three way with Lambert and Lucius. When you walk into Redcliffe, that’s the woman they’ll see, not the Imperial Enchanter. Not the First Enchanter of Montsimmard. Not the leader of the loyalist mages. Do you really believe they’ll take you seriously as a negotiator?”

The older woman narrowed her eyes, ever so slightly.

“Vivienne, I’m not asking you to stay away because I dislike you. The Maker knows that I do dislike you, but the reason that I wanted you to stay in Haven for this was that you have the potential to absolutely fuck this up. I believe that neither of us want that. Correct?”

“Well, Herald, if you insist, I will acquiesce this once. When we return to Haven I will inform Lady Montilyet about your personal choices. You can discuss it with her directly.” Vivienne gathered all her dignity about her and glided toward a tent.

Carys was about to return to her knitting when Sera popped her head up next to her. “That shite you told her wasn’t true, was it? You lied to keep her from coming with, huh.”

With a slight smile and a lift to her eyebrows, Carys answered, “The social climbing whore part was true enough, I suppose. The rest, I lied through my teeth.”

Vivienne looked at the two of them when Sera’s cackle echoed off the walls surrounding the camp. “Ya know she’s gonna tell Miss Prissy Pants.”

“By then, I will have already been to Redcliffe. I still win.”

Waggling her eyebrows, Sera giggled. “Maybe if you’re lucky, Miss Prissy Pants will have Ser Stompy Boots give you a spanking. I seen him looking at you. He’d like that, I bet.”

“Stompy Boots? I don’t…” Carys sighed. “I don’t even want to know who you’re talking about, but I can promise you that I do not want a ‘spanking’. Where do you get… Never mind. Go… steal Viv’s smalls and hang them on a flag pole or fill that ridiculous hat with worms. Use your imagination.”

She watched as Sera did a back flip and went into stealth.

“No killing,” she called, and then muttered to herself, “We’re saving that for when I’m more desperate.”

 

****************

 

Carys sat on a bench in Redcliffe, considering her options. Nothing about the day had gone well, and she was frantically trying to find a way out of the trap that was waiting for her in the Chantry. She was, in a way, regretting her decision to not allow Vivienne to come with her. In retrospect, things probably couldn’t have gone worse had she been there. She could, at least, have been of use with that stupid rift outside of town. What was up with that, anyway?

Time had been… wonky… around it. Cassandra sped up, Bull slowed down. Varric avoided them like the plague, which was good. Then, upon entering the town proper, they had been told that no one was expecting them. “Grand Enchanter Fiona will meet you at the Inn,” they were told.

Once they got there, things got worse. Fiona said that she hadn’t been in Val Royeaux, and that the Rebel Mage leadership had already sold themselves, and all the other mages, into indentured servitude to the Tevinter Imperium.

Enter Magister Alexius; less than a single cliché away from being a character in one of Varric’s novels. She mentioned this to Varric, who informed her, in no uncertain terms, that he was a way better writer than that. That was fair.

She met a Tranquil that told her that he and his peers had nowhere to go. They offended that asshole Magister’s delicate sensibilities, she supposed. She also spoke to more than a few mages that disagreed with the idea of going to Tevinter.

On the other hand, there was that bitch Linnea, a power mad harpy if there ever was one, talking about how the Chantry has it wrong and Tevinter is great. Blah, blah, blah… Punching her would have felt really good. Not to mention she didn’t remember a Linnea at her Circle at all, and she’d remember someone so… officious.

_Note to self,_ Carys thought, _Ask Bull or Cassandra for punching lessons. Can’t hurt, right?_

Varric’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“So, Dodgy, we going in or what?”

Instead of answering, Carys headed for the door. “We don’t really have a choice but head straight into the ambush. Everyone always seems to have the drop on us.”

Bull laughed, “It’s cause we’re special, Boss.” Reaching forward, he opened the door and waved her in. “Ladies first.”

The first thing Carys noticed is the big ass rift in the center of the room. The second was the incredibly good-looking, dapper mage, bashing demons over the head with his staff. When he noticed that they’d entered the Chantry, the mage quipped, “Good, you’re finally here. Now, help me close this, will you?”

It was a quick fight, even with the rift speeding up time in some places and slowing it in others. But it still made the fight against the demons pouring out of it a huge pain in the ass. Someone, Carys was unsure whom, was going to have to explain. She was owed that much.

Finally, the demons stopped long enough for Carys to raise her hand and let the mark ~~on it~~ do its work.

“That’s… fascinating. How does that work, exactly?” The dapper mage asked, evidently expecting a detailed diagram.

Seeing the look on Carys face, he said, “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and ‘Poof,’ rift closes.”

Carys secured her staff onto her back and put her hands on her hips. “If you don’t have any insight, just shut it. I’ve had a horrible day, it’s not getting better, and your observations into the obvious are not helping. Do you have anything useful to offer?”

Bull laid his hand on Cary’s shoulder, “Be careful of the pretty ones. They’re always the worst.” He suffered an elbow to the abdomen for his trouble.  “Oof.”

“Shut it, Bull.  Not helping.” Carys said through clenched teeth, as she peered at the handsome mage in front of her, “I’m Carys Trevelyan. You are?”

A sparkling laugh the same flavor as his personality echoed around the Chantry ceilings. “I am getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” He proceeded to give a courtly bow. “I am Dorian Pavus, lately of Minrathous. Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance will be quite valuable, as you can imagine.”

“A Tevinter,” Cassandra said. “Ugh.”

“Minrathous was in Tevinter, last I checked. Of course, it’s been a while since I’ve been, so it may have moved.” Dorian flashed a smile full of teeth and charm. “Be that as it may, I do have information that may be of interest.”

“Information would be good, Ser… Dorian, or would it be Ser Pavus? I’m a little confused as to title here. I’m assuming that Magister wouldn’t be appropriate.” Carys held out her hand to shake Dorian’s. “Excuse my colleagues. They aren’t very trusting.”

Taking her hand, Dorian lifted it to his lips. “Charmed, I’m certain.”

To the sound of another of Cassandra’s disgusted noises, Carys smiled, “I certainly am.”

The mage cleared his throat, “But, to business. You saw how the rift here twisted time around itself, yes? Time magic. That’s the way Alexius was able to get here before you. There will be more like it, spreading out farther and farther from Redcliffe.”

Sighing, Carys pushed her hair back from her forehead. “Time magic. You know how insane that sounds, right? I don’t suppose you have anything other than your word to give me on this?”

“I know what I’m talking about,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable. Given time, it will unravel the world. When I was his apprentice, I helped develop this type of magic. We were never able to get it to work properly, though.”

“It would seem that it works now,” she said.

“Yes, yes.” Dorian waved her words away as if he were swatting flies. “What I don’t understand is why. Why risk ripping time to shreds for a few hundred lackies? It’s not like mages are in short supply back home. It makes no sense at all.”

A door to the side of the chantry opened, and Bull, Cassandra and Varric drew their weapons in unison. Felix held his hands wide as he approached.

“He didn’t do it for them,” he said. “He did it to get to her. He’s a member of some sort of cult. They call themselves the Venatori. They are all obsessed with her. Whatever he’s done, it was to draw her out.”

“Of course, he did. Shit.” Carys gave a wry chuckle. “It’s flattering, all this trouble for little old me. And I didn’t bring him anything as a thank you. He’ll think that I’m not grateful.”

Dorian laughed. “Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those. At least now you know you’re the target.”

Closing her eyes, Carys rubbed her forehead. When she finally answered, she sounded tired. “Knowing I’m the target of another faction isn’t as helpful as you’d think.  I’m always the target. Half of Thedas thinks I’m some religious icon, the other half wants me dead.”

“I can imagine.” Dorian drew close to the Herald and put his hand on her shoulder. “I can’t stay in Redcliffe for much longer. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d like to keep him in the dark a bit longer. Whenever you decide to deal with him, I want to help.”

“Why would you want to help?” asked Bull. “Vints generally stick together.”

“Let’s just say that, at the moment, Alexius and I have vastly different world views. He wants to destroy it, I don’t want it destroyed. Fair enough?” Dorian tossed his head jauntily. “Keep in touch, will you? I truly do want to help.

“As for you, Felix, try not to get yourself killed, Hmmmm?” With that, Dorian Pavus backed out of the Chantry.

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” his friend answered, looking at the herald, instead of his friend. “You can trust him. He’s a good man.”

After the two men from Tevinter left, the Herald of Andraste and her companions stood in the Chantry for a while. Varric was the first to break the silence. “Curly is going to shit when he hears about this.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave Kudos and comments. They help motivate me. I love the attention.


End file.
